


Pretty Lady

by TeaandBanjo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Gen, Werewolf AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 01:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14780858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaandBanjo/pseuds/TeaandBanjo
Summary: Rosie has been keeping some things from Jack, but keeping things from a detective takes luck. You can't count on luck.Inzannatea challenged me with "angsty Werewolf Rosie."   This is what happened.





	Pretty Lady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inzannatea (Zanna23)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/gifts).



> Rosie has been keeping some things from Jack, but keeping things from a detective takes luck, and luck can run out.
> 
> Inzannatea challenged me with "angsty Werewolf Rosie." This is what happened.
> 
> Firesign23, thank you for reading this and helping me work out a couple of rough spots!

Rosie frowned at the calendar on the kitchen wall.  She was always edgy this time of the month. She wasn't actually going to be able to relax, but she needed to be out of town already.  The bag was packed, and the sun was still high. The railway time table said 3:40, which would get her to Sarah's place in the country in plenty of time.  

Rosie wished she understood the rules.  Long ago, in Sunday school, prim old maids had told her how God wanted her to behave.  She tried, she really did. “Be kind to animals,” they said. No one told her that shouldn’t apply to an enormous mangy stray dog sniffing around a chicken coop in the moonlight. Here she was, cooking and ironing done, and planning her escape.  It was necessary. It was another lie in a very long series of lies.

 

She was sweeping up in the kitchen when the strange almost-headache warned her that it was starting.  She slid her tongue across her upper teeth, and felt the spaces between them changing, and her tongue catching on the canines.

_ Not now!  Not until the moon rises...I think... _

She tugged the strings of her apron to loosen the knot, and stepped out of her shoes.  The calendar said tomorrow was the full moon, not today. There were words she wanted to say; she did not say them.

She took off her wedding ring and flung it into the cupboard.   _ I’m sorry, Jack _

The uneasy sensation of her bones shifting in her skull put her back in motion.  All the clothes ended up at the back of the mop cupboard. The clothes were for Rosie the woman, they did not suit Rosie the wolf.  She could feel the joints in her hips and ankles starting to realign.

Rosie the wolf, who was supposed to be safe at Sarah’s place out in the country before this started.   _ You would think that after almost a year of this I would have figured out when and how this wolf business works. _

She would just leave a note for Jack and let herself out the back door into the twilight: a woman might not be safe after dark, but a wolf would.  She swished her tail, and a growl formed in her throat.

Fingernails were shaping themselves into claws.   _ This is all too fast. _  No thumb to pick up the pencil.  The pencil rolled off the table and onto the floor.  Rosie felt her heart race. Pale gray fur rippled along her arms.

She ran on all fours to the back door.

She raised a paw to the knob, and scraped toenails against the door. Both front paws did no better.  She whined in frustration.  _ I'm too late. _

She trotted around the house, nails clicking on the wood floor.  All the doors were closed. A second, more careful trip to examine the window was equally fruitless.  The windows were all closed except the bathroom, which was open only a hand's with, and was not going to let a wolf through.  She could smell the things growing in the garden, but she wasn’t going to get there.

Rosie was truly stuck. She flopped down under the piano and rested her muzzle on her paws.   The moon would set at some point, tomorrow morning, and she'd change back. But what would she do when Jack got home?

  
  
  


Jack paused on the sidewalk to look up at the moon.  It was almost completely full, and high and bright in the cloudless sky. His shadow was sharp in the moonlight.  Long ago, his grandmother told him stories about things that come out with the full moon, but these days, he appreciated being able to see.

He was late.  That was never good, even when Rosie was cheerful, and wouldn’t you think a woman with a couple of policemen in the family would be used to that by now?  For the last few days, Rosie had been nervous for no reason she’d been willing to explain. On one hand, he wanted to help, on the other hand, sometimes asking made things more tense between them.

“I hope Rosie is getting some sleep, anyway,” he muttered as he tiptoed up the front steps.  The house was dark, so that seemed likely. Quiet was his friend. 

Once in the front door, he shut it behind him and flipped the light switch in the hall.  The hat and coat were hung in his usual spot, next to Rosie’s summer coat and her favorite hat.  

He turned on the light in the kitchen, and leaned against the doorframe to take off his shoes.  Everything was tidy, except a broom leaning in the corner, and the door of one of the cupboards was ajar.  

Jack opened the icebox, extracted the milk bottle and set it next to the stove.  It was followed by cocoa, sugar, a spoon, and mug. The small saucepan ended up on the stove, over a low flame.  He set a plate down gently on the kitchen table, and found the biscuits.

A few minutes later, he carried the mug into the living room, set down the plate next to the lamp, and turned it on.

There was something gray and fuzzy on the floor next to the piano.  He set down the cocoa next to the plate, and crossed the room to investigate.  The unfamiliar item was not a rag, but a tail. It was attached to a large dog, who was bunching itself into the shadow of the piano.  The head shape and dark forehead reminded him of a German Shepherd, although the slender, pale gray legs did not. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked the animal.  His brain offered and rejected various scenarios.  The front door was locked, the back door was in the kitchen, also closed.   _ Rosie is allergic to dogs. She wouldn’t have let it in. _

The dog’s brown eyes followed him as he approached, and he crouched to offer it a hand.  It sniffed his hand cautiously. The underside of its muzzle was almost white, and the animal’s chest was pale, with its coat shading to gray on its flanks.

“Come out, lad,” he said calmly.   _ Is this one of the neighbor’s pets? _  “It’s alright.”

He waited.  

It seemed to come to some sort of decision, and crept out into the open and got to its feet.

It shook itself,  briefly stuck its nose into his crotch, and then leaned against him.  The animal’s shoulders were above his knee, and he could feel its weight against him.  He patted it, trying to feel for a collar under the luxurious gray fur.

“Down!” he told it sternly, matching the words with his hands against the dog’s shoulders.  It crouched, and he rolled it over for long enough to determine that the dog was a girl, not a boy, and also that she had no collar.

He stood up, and the dog rolled her pale belly down to the rug.  She watched him, ears up, and the light fur above her eyes twitching.

“Well, girl, it would have been smart to have a tag, but we will get you home somehow.”

He sat down in his favorite chair, and reached for the coca.  

The dog was suddenly in motion, a gray blur aiming for the table.  Her massive front paws landed on either side of the plate, which she examined for a moment, ears up.  She daintily grasped one biscuit between her teeth, and took her prize back to the rug.

“You,” said Jack, trying not to laugh, “are a pretty lady with no table manners!”  He shrugged.  _  If Rosie were awake, she would have taken one of my biscuits instead. _

He watched the dog over the top of his mug.  She held the biscuit between her paws and was eating it in small nibbles.  Rosie would have done the same, in between sips of tea.

Jack and the dog were done at more or less the same time, and he took plate and mug back in the kitchen.  She followed him, nose to his heel.

The dog’s head swiveled to look around the kitchen.  She sniffed at Jack’s shoes, and pawed them disdainfully.

“You and Rosie would get along,” Jack observed, “she doesn’t like my shoes in the kitchen either, but you can’t stay.”

The dog sprawled on the floor, muzzle against her paws and tail motionless.

“I’m sorry, pretty lady.  She’s allergic.”

He took a random bowl from the cabinet, and filled it from the sink.  “Have some water”

The dog tilted her head and examined the bowl.  Jack realized that he’d just offered one of Rosie’s fancy china dishes to a dog.  

“It’s fine,” he said, chuckling to himself.  “You’re a guest.”

Jack spent a few minutes washing the things from the cocoa.  Last, he took the empty dish back from the dog, washed it carefully, and put it on the rack with the others.

“It’s been nice chatting, pretty lady, but you need to go.”

The dog watched him as he opened the back door.

“Out!” said Jack, as he held the door open for her.

  
  


Rosie flattened herself against the floor, and whined softly.  Jack had seemed almost willing to let her stay in the house, and that would simplify things when the moon set and she changed back.  She’d have to figure out how to explain. _  Somehow. _

Jack grabbed her by the loose fur at the back of her neck, and half lifted her off her feet.  Her toenails scratched uselessly against the shiny floor as he dragged her to the open door.

“Go home, pretty lady.  Someone’s missing you.” He shoved her out and closed the door behind her before she could turn.  Now she was outside, in the back garden which was very nice during the day, but not exactly to her liking in the moonlight.

Rosie sulked under one of the bushes.  The very idea of Jack shooing her out of her own house! She should be gone, she could spend the night somewhere safer, further away.

The light in their bedroom turned on, and she could hear Jack’s footsteps. 

Rosie watched and listened as Jack worked his way through their house.    _ He thought I was asleep, but I’m not there and he’s looking for me! _

 

The moon had passed the zenith, and now all the lights in the Robinson house were on.  

Rosie watched Jack open the back door.   He carried the electric torch, and followed the wall of the house around, examining the wall and the ground, and the window frames.  

It seemed like a long time, but he came back around and sat down on the steps.

“Pretty Lady, why aren’t you home yet?  I can see you over there.” He sat with elbows on his knees, and head propped in his hands.

She padded across the damp grass, felt the breeze ruffle her fur.  

Jack smelled like dust, from under the bed and from the attic. She licked his hand, and pushed her nose against his cheek.  

“Rosie’s been keeping things from me, pretty lady,”  murmured Jack, as he scratched her behind her ears.  _ God, Jack, how can I tell you this? _

“She has a bag packed, and a train schedule in her purse.  She didn’t tell me about any plans, I don’t know where she went.”  Jack sighed. “Last time, she said she was visiting a friend in Sidney.  The time before that, it was her sister, and before that... never mind, it’s not important.”

Rosie shifte d  her feet uncomfortably, and whined softly.

“I don’t know why she would leave without the bag, but she’s gone, and there is no sign of a struggle, so she must have walked out on her own.  She isn’t happy here, and she won’t even argue about it anymore.”

Rosie rested her muzzle on his knee.  He ran a hand along her spine, and she wagged her tail.

“You probably saw her leave when you got in, Pretty Lady, but you aren’t talking.”

_ I would if I could, Jack.   _ It came out as a whimper.  She licked his ear.

 

Jack opened the back door, and the animal practically knocked him off his feet trying to get in.  She circled the kitchen table nervously, as he hung up the electric torch, and made sure the back door was closed and locked.

“Fine,” he said.  “We will get you home first thing tomorrow morning.”  He was just too tired to drag her outside again, never mind where the dog actually belonged.

The dog followed him into the bedroom, but not into the bathroom.  

When he returned, the dog was sprawled across the bed, with her muzzle on Rosie’s pillow.

“Down!” said Jack.  He pointed at the rug.  

The dog slowly climbed off the bed, and curled up on the rug.  She gave him a hurt look.

He turned out the light and headed for his bed.  Alone. He supposed it was one of those things he would get used to.

Jack pulled up the doona and tried to relax.  Anger, disappointment, and loneliness were swirling around him, and the knowledge that he needed a few hours sleep to function when he went on shift wasn’t helping.  Whatever Rosie thought about him and his schedule, wherever she was, he needed to be at City South in the morning. 

 

A beam of moonlight had found its way between the curtains and into his eyes.  Like some damn gothic novel. Granny’s witch and vampire and werewolf stories were silly.

 

_ If the wolf thing were true, people would go missing, strange animals that no one recognized would appear in locked rooms.   _

 

_ That doesn’t happen, not today, not in the city of Melbourne… _

 

_ That doesn't.   _

 

_ No. _

 

He looked over at the dog, curled up asleep on the rug.  She did look very much like a wolf.

_ Rosie is gone, her coat and bag are here.  Here is this wolf on our bedroom floor, who licks my face and steals my biscuits.  No! No?  _

“”Rosie.”  It came out as a hoarse whisper.  

The wolf’s eyes opened, she was on her feet and next to him in only a moment.  She put a paw on his shoulder, and sniffed him carefully. Her breath was warm against his cheek, and her brown eyes were focused on his face.

Jack picked up her paw and examined her toes.  The left front paw was the size of a saucer. There was no way a wolf’s paw could wear a ring intended for a human hand.  The toes and the paw pads wouldn’t permit it. 

Jack took a deep breath.  

“Where is your ring?  What did you do with it?”

The wolf stared at him, mouth open, whiskers twitching.  She took her paw back.

“It’s alright,” he said, trying to push down the anxiety and keep his voice calm.  “Can you show me?”

Rosie bounced lightly on her front paws, and dashed for the hallway.

Jack threw off the covers and scrambled after her, and watched her tail disappear into the kitchen.

He turned on the light.  The wolf pushed the cupboard door open with a toenail, and wedged her muzzle in to fling the door open.  She emerged, dragging a familiar apron.

“I’ve got this, you can go sit down.”  Jack tried to silence the part of his brain that was screaming about Rosie, on a train, to somewhere else, with someone else.

He lifted clothes out of the pile, one by one.  Rosie’s underwear was followed by wrinkled stockings. At the bottom was a familiar blue dress.  

Jack explored the dark recesses of the cabinet by touch and felt cool, smooth metal.  

Once out in the light, there was no mistaking it.  A woman’s wedding ring. Rosie’s wedding ring. 

He sank to the cool tile, next to the wolf, and showed her the ring.

“You knew you were changing into a wolf.”

She nodded her head, which seemed strange gesture from a wolf.

“Rosie, I wish you had told me.”  She nosed his cheek, licked his face.

“I threw you out.  It isn’t safe out there.”  The wolf draped herself over his lap, and he stroked her fur.

 

“Where do you want to sleep, Rosie?”  She launched herself to her feet, dashed into the bedroom, and made a four-footed leap onto the bed.

She stomped in a small circle, wrinkling the doona into a wolf-sized nest. She had left Jack’s side of the bed conveniently vacant, so he stepped across the hall to turn out the kitchen light.  

 

Jack finally settled into bed, and wondered how he would sleep.  Rosie uncurled and rested her head on his chest. Jack buried his fingers in the silky, plush ruff of gray fur behind her ears, and felt the wolf relax and lean against him.

Rosie yawned, pointy wolf teeth gleamed in the moonlight.

“What big teeth you have!” he whispered.

The wolf’s whiskers twitched, which was practically a smile.  She snorted, almost like a laugh, and settled her head back on his chest.  

He watched her eyes close, and then he slept.


End file.
